Zibeline — Complete eBook

“Under some other pretext, however,” said
the General. “Because Mademoiselle de Vermont’s
million francs have destroyed their amorous designs.”

“So now we see Zibeline fairly launched,”
remarked the banker. “Since the Duchesse
de Montgeron has taken her up, all the naughty tales
that have been fabricated about her will go to pieces
like a house of cards.”

“That is very probable,” the General concluded,
“for she has made a complete conquest of my
sister.”

At these words a slight cloud passed over the actress’s
face. The imagination of a jealous mistress sees
rivals everywhere; especially that of an actress.

After dinner, while her other guests went into the
smoking-room, Eugenic made a sign to her lover to
remain with her, and seated herself beside him.

“I wish to ask you a question, Henri,”
said she.

“What is it?”

“Do you still love me?”

“What reason have you to doubt it?”

“None that warrants me in reproaching you for
anything. But so many things separate us!
Your career, to which you owe everything! Your
social standing, so different from mine! Oh,
I know that you are sincere, and that if you ever
have a scruple regarding our liaison, you will not
be able to hide it from me. It is this possibility
of which I think.”

“You are quite wrong, I assure you. Did
I hide myself last night in order to prove openly
my admiration for you? Did I appear to disclaim
the allusions which you emphasized in seeming to address
me in the course of your role?”

“No, that is true. Shall I make a confession?
When I am on the stage, I fear nothing, because there
the points of comparison are all in my favor, since
you can say to yourself: ’This woman on
whom all eyes are fixed, whose voice penetrates to
the depths of the soul—­this woman, beautiful,
applauded, courted, belongs to me—­wholly
to me,’ and your masculine vanity is pleasantly
flattered. But later, Henri! When the rouge
is effaced from my lips, when the powder is removed
from my cheeks—­perhaps revealing some premature
line caused by study and late hours—­if,
after that, you return to your own circle, and there
encounter some fresh young girl, graceful and blooming,
the object, in her turn, of the fickle admiration
of the multitude, forgetful already of her who just
now charmed them—­tell me, Henri! do you
not, as do the others, covet that beautiful exotic
flower, and must not the poor comedienne weep for her
lost prestige?”

“It is Mademoiselle de Vermont, then, who inspires
you with this apprehension,” said the General,
smiling.

“Well, yes, it is she!”

“What childishness! Lenaieff will tell
you that I have never even looked at her.”

“Last night, perhaps—­but to-day?”

“We exchanged no more than a dozen words.”

“But the more I think of her visit to the greenroom,
the more inexplicable it appears to me.”